


Ravens' Wing

by DixieDale



Category: The Persuaders
Genre: Halloween
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 09:58:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,150
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20992931
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DixieDale/pseuds/DixieDale
Summary: "Ravens' Wing is not a place to invite your friends.  Your enemies, perhaps, but not your friends."  Mistress Justine had told them after that first 'interesting' visit to the place.Now, a very few short years later, they were going to put that to the test.  After all, those men shooting at them didn't seem all that friendly.





	Ravens' Wing

Prologue:  
It was Halloween, and they were headed toward Ravens' Wing as quickly as they could manage, occasionally glancing back to check to see if the followers were still there. Obviously, whoever was in those cars weren't the type to give up easily. It looked as if they'd arrive at the old Sinclair property around midnight, Danny Wilde, Lord Brett Sinclair in the front car, along with a goodly number of others following along behind.

Mistress Justine had once told them, "Ravens' Wing is not someplace to invite your friends. Your enemies, perhaps, but not your friends." 

From the looks of it, and the sound of those bullets ringing through the night, those chasing them weren't interested in being friendly, so maybe an invitation WAS in order. Time alone would tell whether that was the smart thing to do or not.

(History) - Ravens' Wing - First Visit:

They'd arrived just at dusk, traveling at a leisurely pace, having taken time to survey the rolling landscape, the rich green of the grass and the trees. Yes, it was mid-October, but this bit of the countryside seemed to still be in full summer mode, though the temperature seemed to be dropping rapidly as they approached their destination. There was also the rumble of far off thunder as they turned into the long lane leading up to the house, and an odd scent to the wind, as if lightning had crashed through the area recently.

The manor house was mellow tan stone, well-tended, if rather oddly-proportioned. The ground floor seemed as it should be for the style, except for the front having two doors, one a standard size, rather off to the side, the other, the one in the center being massive, both wide and tall. 

On the next level up, the two windows were equally huge, those French doors leading to the oversized jutting balcony in the middle even more so. The overall effect was rather that of a giant face, with the dark trim above the upper windows, like eyebrows, just adding to the bizarre impression. The courtyard and drive seemed more suited for a carriage and pair than for the luxurious high-performance automobile the two men had arrived in.

Danny got out, stretched, raised his hand to point to the two towers he'd referred to in his original appeal to visit this place. They weren't part of the manor house proper, just sat off to the side, connected by a high arch. The old stories had never explained the purpose of the structure, though several opinions, some rather unsettling, had been offered. Sinclair remembered one about that being the entrance to an alternative universe, another insisting the bodies of the residents' victims were hung from that arch 'all in a row, dangling like bits of a necklace'. 

"See, we rig the jump from up there; it'll be a gas!" Danny reiterated, while Brett just rolled his eyes. No, there would be no bungee jumping in HIS future!

They made their way to the front door, hesitated and moved over to the side door after realizing they didn't have the strength to budge the oversized one. When there was no response to their knock, they entered, Sinclair with obvious reluctance, though the American was almost bouncing in his enthusiasm. 

Sinclair felt the hair stand up on the back of his neck and already knew this was a mistake, seriously considered turning around and leaving. Still, he'd promised his partner they'd at least LOOK at the place.

{"I'll give it one day, then I'll come up with a reason for us to leave. Surely I can discourage him sufficiently by then,"} uneasily remembering all the stories he'd been told about this place. 

Then the torchieres on the walls burst into flame, lighting the interior so they could get a better look at their surroundings. They really didn't have time for much looking, though, before that low rumbling voice greeted them with a cool "Lord Sinclair. Mr. Wilde."

He placed a polite smile on his face and looked around the entry hall in search for whoever what offered that initial greeting. The smile faltered, then died entirely when he found what he was searching for. 

No, he NEVER would have been searching for THAT, but it seemed that was where that voice had come from anyway. In a portion of his mind that was flitting through all the old stories, the part that wasn't considering panicking, he remembered scoffing at the description one of his ancestors had penned of the resident of Ravens' Wing that HE had encountered; it had been much like what he was facing now.

A second voice, coming from the landing above, drew both men's attention away from that first impossible figure. {"Yes, just as improbable,"} Sinclair thought, wondering at how calmly he was taking all of this. {"Probably shock; my mind just isn't this adaptable. Just ask anyone who knows me."} 

A raspy voice came from the one above. 

"I think perhaps you should leave, Lord Sinclair, you and your mate. This is not a convenient time for a visit. Truly, there ARE no convenient times for visiting. I fear we are not overly hospitable; a failing, to be sure, but we are as we are. No, not hospitable at all. We thought that had been made clear to others of your family. Obviously not clear enough. Perhaps we might offer a reminder? Along with wishing you a pleasant and speedy return to your home, of course. We will even escort you a portion of the way, at least off the grounds of Ravens' Wing. Best move along now."

A very careful backing up to the door, they'd turned in unison and made their way quickly to the car. While it wasn't an all-out run, that was more because they didn't want to set off any instinctive pursuit.

They'd sped away as fast as discretion and the weather would allow, certainly faster than one should have in the sudden downpouring of rain and darkness only occasionally lit by ragged streaks of lightning. Somehow slowing down just didn't seem smart.

'Ya know, Your Lordship. I kinda think he - he? She? It?? - was right. I don't think we oughta go back anytime soon," thinking of the firm warning they'd just been given. "Maybe never. But sure as hell not at Halloween, OR for a party. Those two just don't seem like the partying kind." 

He risked a glance over his shoulder, trying to see if the twelve-foot tall gargoyle with the huge wings, the one with the bright green eyes, was still following them. He thought not, but the shadows all around them in the night were swirling too fast to make a positive determination. 

Sinclair took a exasperated, indeed, long-suffering look over at his partner.

"Really, Daniel? I would have thought you would have been thrilled at the 'experience', the 'wide-ranging possibilities'. You WERE the one who kept insisting Ravens' Wing sounded just - and if I might quote you - "absolutely perfect for Halloween! It'll be a blast! You'll see! It'll be fantastic!" He gave an extemely genteel snort before continuing, though now in his own tones, not that exaggerated imitation of Danny's voice.

"Well, I must admit you were right about that, at least. 'Fantastic' is certainly one of the words I intend to use in my journal when I record the events of this trip. I really don't see how repeating the experience on October 31st will possibly outdo THIS little adventure." 

That tone was about as dry as it could possibly get. His tone was the only thing dry about him, as they had fled the house in the midst of a raging thunderstorm, complete with lashings of icy rain. He was sure the seats of his car would never be quite the same; his suit certainly wouldn't be. Somehow, at that particular moment, he couldn't get too concerned about either, not considering what COULD have transpired. Yes, he was now remembering quite a few OTHER stories about this place, ones he'd forgotten or discounted.

Danny rolled his eyes at the rebuke. 

"Well, yeah. But I never figured you were actually leveling with me about the place. I mean, look at all the stuff you told me about Devils' Court and look what a great place that turned out to be! And everything else; you're always putting me on about stuff. Who knew you'd actually be telling the truth for once??!"

What Brett Sinclair had no intention of telling his partner, not anytime soon, anyway, was that he thought he HAD been exaggerating, or at least taking the more outlandish of the family legends rather too much to heart in trying to discourage his partner in his eagerness to visit there. Especially since Devils' Court HAD turned out so well, was looking to turn into something of a home for all four of them. 

But no, it looked like the Earl and the others had been right all along about Ravens' Wing. From what Lord Sinclair had seen this night, it had thoroughly earned its reputation as a place to avoid at all costs. 

And avoid it they had, for a very, very long time, the members of the Sinclair family. And somehow, though no one had a good explanation for it, the property seemed to manage quite well WITHOUT direct Sinclair interference, ah, oversight. There was enough income to support the property without outside subsidy, even enough to add a bit to the general Sinclair coffers, certainly sufficient to put off any seeking to interfere with whatever management was going on. Those monies appeared, with pleasing regularity, if by means considered less than regular. 

Well, a pouch of coin carried by a raven, much larger than the usual bird, was hardly the regular way of paying your portion to a property owner, but the Sinclairs were pragmatists. Coin, no matter how delivered, was better than no coin, and a property that ill-favored, with that bad of a reputation, was better off if managed from within, if done so well, not requiring any of the Sinclairs to risk life and limb doing so.

Well, so had Devils' Court done all that, come to think of it. THEIR coin had come by messenger pouch, not by raven pouch, but still. Those periodic inspection trips to THAT estate had been more of a royal/legal formality than anything else, and there were no such edicts governing their actions with regard to THIS property, thank all the stars and heaven above!!

Yet, despite all the history, all the prohibitions, all the lurid stories told, - indeed, all of his good intentions and firm resolve - here he was, Lord Brett Sinclair, fleeing Ravens' Wing as so many others of his family had done over the centuries. Oh, in a very expensive car, this time, not in a carriage, or on horseback, or however those prior Sinclairs had taken off with their proverbial tails between their legs, but still fleeing. Lord Brett Sinclair found it all most undignified, and he was hardly the first Sinclair to have found it so.

And it was all Danny's fault! Well, so many of the misadventures Brett Sinclair found himself embroiled in were Danny's fault. And if not Danny's, then Judge Fulton's. HE was far too dignified and refined to get involved in such nonsense on his own! It was all MOST distressing!

It had seemed simple, uncomplicated, innocent enough, at least as much so as one of Danny's bursts of enthusiasm tended to be, which, admittedly, often turned out to be not so simple and uncomplicated as originally they appeared, and rarely innocent in retrospect.

They didn't have a job going at the moment, Kate and Margot were busy settling in at Devils' Court with the able assistance and support of Mistress Justine and the rest of the staff, and they were at loose ends, as well as obviously being much underfoot. 

So, after much cajoling and nagging and pestering and promising of highly-improbable erotic favors by his irrepressible partner, Brett had given in to Danny's insistence that they needed to scout Ravens' Wing as the site for what Danny termed 'a really wild Halloween bash'.

"It'll be great! I've been reading about the place in your registers, or whatever you call them, and it'd be fantastic! We can bring some of the crowd down on the thirtieth so they can spend the night, maybe have a seance with someone dressed up like a witch or something, or maybe a fortune teller and a crystal ball. Or maybe we'll save that for Halloween night, and the night before have a scavenger hunt inside! 

"And we'll have the whole next day for fun! You know, maybe have a hay ride and go bobbing for apples and play pin the tail on the gargoyle, and all kinds of stuff! Maybe rig a bungee jump from the arch I read about that connects the two towers! 

"Yeah, I know you don't know what a bungee jump is, Your Dukeship, but trust me! I heard about it from this guy in New Zealand, and it'll be a blast! I'd let you talk to him, tell you all about it, but he's kinda laid up at the moment. Something about a piton slipping or a carabiner giving way, or a rubber band snapping or something; I kinda lost track and that broken jaw made him kinda hard to understand. But still . . ."

Margot had seemed slightly interested in the idea, Kate not at all, not even when reminded it might provide fodder for an upcoming murder mystery she was writing centered around Halloween. She'd privately told Margot that "not if you gave me a million pounds. I've heard far too much about that place! I write murder mysteries, not horror novels!"

That got Margot's attention, since Kate was not known for being overly cautious in her research. She had gone to some very strange places, observed some very odd things indeed, so for her to be so adamant about this was most unusual. Kate recounted some of the stories, the family legends and Margot had to agree it wasn't the kind of place SHE would elect to spend the night.

"Do you think we should talk them out of going there?" Margot asked, only to get a snort of derision. Kate had grown up alongside Brett, after all, and had known Danny for some time now.

"I don't know of anyone who could talk that pair out of much of anything once they decide on it! All I can say is if they manage to get themselves killed after all this fuss and bother of weddings and moving and everything, I'm going to find them and kill them myself! Even if I have to get a witchdoctor to bring them back to life in order to do so!"

A muffled snort of amusement from behind them caused them to turn and see a highly-amused Mistress Justine taking all that in.

"Well, don't fret overly much, now. It's not good for the babes, Miss Margot," the housekeeper informed them with a smile and soothing air about her. 

Kate and Margot shot a startled look at each other, then Kate issued a cautious "babes?"

"Oh, aye. Twins for certain. You're not quite there yet, Miss Kate, but you'll not be far behind to my way of thinking. I've a lovely little tonic for you and Master Danny to share when they return; expect that will do the trick right enough."

"And as for Masters Brett and Danny and Ravens' Wing, I've called in a few favors. They'll not come to much harm there, other than perhaps getting a good fright or two; frankly, I think 'twill do the pair of them a bit of good. Gotten too self-confident by far; wouldn't hurt to teach them a good lesson in being a bit more cautious, at least to my mind.

"Of course, the idea of holding a party there is totally out of the question; the two in charge down there aren't the sociable type, but I'm thinking this little trip will put that foolish notion right out of their minds. After all, Ravens' Wing is not a place to invite your friends. Your enemies, perhaps, but not your friends."

They looked at that highly-amused, very confident smile, and smiles of their own started to appear. 

"Do tell, Mistress Justine, please?" Margot begged, and soon they were sitting around the kitchen table, teapot being poured, and fresh baked bread and sweet butter and jam being savoured.

Justine smiled as she related the story.

"'Twas like this. The young couple who lived there, who managed the place for the then-Lord Sinclair, they had no children nor any hopes of such, and while they had a large hound and even an unusually large tabby, they still felt the lack of companions who, when they spoke, actually spoke in return in voices other than those giving a growl or whine or purr or hiss.

"So, when the cat and dog brought in those baby ravens, one each held gently in those sharp-toothed mouths, they decided to take on the rearing, for they had heard that ravens could be taught to speak. Those two ravens grew, and indeed learned to talk, and became a mated pair. 

"And in the course of time, two ravens became a multitude of ravens, unusually large ones in fact, larger with each generation. There are those who say a group of ravens is to be called an 'unkindness of ravens', or a 'conspiracy of ravens', but the couple insisted the proper term was a 'wing of ravens', and the place, previously known as Coldwell, came to be called Ravens' Wing.

"After the first several generations of young ravens were hatched out, they came to change in more than just size, slightly at first, then more rapidly, til by the time the couple met their final rest, those ravens had become something quite different. They had become something far more akin to what the old books called gargoyles, the adults easily able to look in the windows, and not just on the ground level either. They could speak, even from the hatching, and not just mimicking words. There was much else they could do, as well.

"And, for whatever reason, others not quite in the usual form also found their way to Ravens' Wing to seek a refuge and a home, each with their own talents and skills and dexterity, and partnerships were formed, so that the place could run itself quite well. 

"And those who now looked to Ravens' Wing as their home, they brooked no interference from the outside; indeed, dispersed any so trying with great alacrity and sometimes a show of force. Including, especially, any of the Sinclairs who thought to rule there. What I, WE accomplished here, through at least somewhat different means, THEY accomplished by others, but both methods were quite successful. Both Devils' Court and Ravens' Wing still pay their due to the Sinclairs, but we are not interferred with, and none seek to rule in either place. 

"Well, not after a few small incidents, anyway, the Sinclairs feeling it beneath their dignity to run wearing sometimes only their smallclothes still intact, so tended to avoid circumstances that might result in that. They came to accept the coin that was sent to them, and to leave both households alone. The Crown insisted one of the Sinclairs visit here at certain intervals, and that is a different story entirely, but Ravens' Wing was never under such strictures. 

"Yes, I believe Masters Brett and Danny will find the place a highly-unlikely place to hold their Halloween party."

By the time she was finished with the (probably highly edited) tale, they agreed. There was probably an attitude adjustment in the works at Ravens' Wing; they just hoped she was right in that the men would come to no real harm. And a little added caution on their part would hardly go amiss. After all, there were babes and potential babes to be considered. 

Truth be told, they rather liked having the guys around; not in the husbandly sense, necessarily, couldn't imagine trying to cope with either of them in that manner for any length of time. But both Danny and Brett together WERE allround good company most times, and agreeable bedmates on the occasional basis.

(A few short years later) -

"Blast the man!" Lord Brett Sinclair swore. Yes, he should have been used to the Judge landing them in the soup by now, but each time it came as a surprise. And each time that pot got deeper and the broth more scorchingly hot.

"Not exactly how I'd put it, but yeah, I gotta agree. Ya know, Your Lordship, I gotta tell you, I think those O'Donnell kids, CharlieR and M'Lynn had it right. We don't start wising up where the Judge and his shennanigans and schemes are concerned, we're gonna end up real dead. I think he really has lost it."

That had been a possibility all along, of course, eccentricity and madness sometimes being only separate points on one trajectory, and sometimes those points not all that far apart, but somehow they'd never really focused on that part of it. The excitement, the thrill, the satisfaction of figuring things out, sometimes even making a contest out of it between the two of them - all that had prevailed for quite a while.

But now they had other responsibilities, other commitments, even apart from the unexpected but rock-solid commitment they had to each other. Now there was Devils' Court, newly rechristened, if that was the right word for reclaiming a much older name, Waelands.

Waelands and what, who, Waelands held, protected - Kate, Margot, and the kids, along with everyone else within its borders. Sometimes they still couldn't believe it - them, with kids. That was making them more and more uneasy about risking their lives on the Judge's whims and fancies. 

Oh, even if something happened to them, there was money enough to keep the whole brood provided for, no question about that; they were both very wealthy men, and the women were not lacking in funds either, both being very successful in their careers. 

Somehow, though, they found themselves wanting to watch those kids grow up, including the ones not yet born. Yes, there were more in the offing, more than likely, other than the Sinclair twins, Danielle and Derrick and their just-hatched baby sister, Amabel, and that rascal JB, first of the Wilde offspring. At least that was what they'd figured, since Kate had been looking decidedly green around the gills again.

They hadn't been sure how it would work out when Brett's cousin Kate and her life-partner Margot had approached them with the idea. After all, Brett and Danny were partners, too, no matter they still chased women from time to time. 

Oh, not with the same dedication that they once had, admittedly, and perhaps no longer as focused on the conquest. They didn't end up sleeping alone no matter what the outcome, after all. In fact, more often than not (alright, so almost always - well, OKAY! ALL the time! Satisfied??!) they found a reason to end the evening with a smile, a pat for the lovely lady, and excuses of an early day tomorrow. 

Still, they DID have an image to protect, though their concern for that was fading fast, especially after the rings were exchanged. Actually several rings, two each, worn side-by-side, only the engraving inside the bands distinguishing what each meant.

It had taken a lot of talking, a lot of discussing, a little double-dating, but when that was all done, Kate Sinclair was standing next to Daniel Wilde at a civil ceremony, while Lord Brett Sinclair was smiling down at his new wife, Margot, right alongside. 

Yes, he got some flack for not having a big formal wedding with scads of Sinclairs in attendance, but he cheerfully ignored it. 

Besides, once those same Sinclairs heard Lord Sinclair and his new lady would be making their home at Devils' Court, right along with the former Kate Sinclair and her new husband, Daniel Wilde, any irregularity as to the wedding ceremonies lost most if not all its importance in comparison.

Then, after the ceremonies, they were off on their honeymoon; actually, honeymoons, plural. Or was it indeed singular?, since they, all four of them, went on the SAME honeymoon. Kate called it 'a double honeymoon'. Danny had quipped, "kinda like a double-date, carried to extremes." Oh, well, semantics could get every bit as confusing as relationships sometimes.

So not everyone did double honeymoons. Neither Brett Sinclair nor Danny Wilde did much in the usual fashion, never had, and saw no reason to start now, and the new Mrs. Wilde and Lady Sinclair held much the same opinion. 

So, side by side bridal suites, with connecting doors, were booked in an elegant if highly discreet resort, which had to do some quick scurrying and renovating (that mandatory connecting door, you know), redecorating and obtaining a second gilt engraved sign, and the after-lights-out logistics were really no one's business but that of the four people involved. 

Whatever the resort manager had thought about the whole project was left unspoken, him being the sensible sort, though the business manager had immediately started thinking of ways to make this a new option. "We'll be ahead of the curve, Conrad, if it catches on!"

Then, it was off to their new home, Devils' Court, where Kate and Margot's belongings had already been shipped, along with just enough of Brett and Danny's so they could be reasonably comfortable, as well as convince any visitors that they did indeed reside there, at least part of the time. After all, the London flat would still be their primary residence, their base of operations. This was strictly a, well, perhaps not temporary, but certainly not a full-time living arrangement, No, of course not.

Their friends and acquaintances and myriads of women the world round had been, in turn, shocked, appalled, congratulatory, indignant and bemused at the news. 

The Judge, on the other hand, had just been highly annoyed, fearing this would interfere with their efforts on his behalf in his ongoing fight for justice. But, at least in the beginning, it hadn't, not really. 

Just, after Margot got pregnant and had the twins, then Kate had JB and Margot was pregnant again, the guys started to reconsider things. They were spending more and more time at Devils' Court, though not due to any coercion, by any means. They just found it remarkably comfortable, quite agreeable in fact.

By the time Amabel was born, they were giving serious consideration to, if not retiring from the 'Justice by Judge' game, at least cutting back severely.

The Judge hadn't taken that so well, and now the jobs they did take on were getting even odder and more dangerous. Enough so that Danny was starting to question whether the man wasn't getting a little petty (or maybe NOT so petty) revenge for them upsetting his plans. 

Brett hadn't been convinced, but this last job, well, it had gone a long way toward convincing him.

"You know, Daniel, you just might be right. I am not at all happy with Judge Fulton right now; his neglecting to give us that other little piece of the puzzle about the other participants and their rather different objectives could have proven quite detrimental."

"Quite detrimental, my ass!" Danny Wilde seethed. "Even if it didn't get us dead, which it coulda done, if we hadn't figured it out in time, it would have left me without a nickel to my name, my business reputation in shreds, and wouldn't have done the Sinclair fortunes any good either! Then what about Kate and Margot, the kids? We'd a had to cut all ties there, you know, just to protect them."

There was silence, then Danny voiced what Brett had been so reluctantly thinking.

"Ya think that's what the old fart had in mind all along, kid? Ya know how pissed he is about the family, about us thinking twice anymore before jumping off any bridge he points to and saying 'jump'."

"I sincerely hope not, Daniel, but I must admit the thought has crossed my mind over the past few days. It occurs to me that our activities on behalf of Judge Fulton just might need to be brought to a close. It is regrettable, in many ways. We did do some good, and he DID bring us together, of course. Still, that doesn't oblige us to die in his service, especially because he has developed a strong case of pique."

"Ya know, I dated a woman with that same attitude once. Just a couple a times going out and she figures I'm hers. I disagree, I wake up to her still dressed in that filmy little nightgown, grinning like a lunatic, holding a knife to my throat, telling me if she couldn't have me, no one else could either. Never figured the Judge for that type, but I've been wrong before," Danny Wilde admitted.

Sinclair looked over, raised a brow and drawled, "well, that is hardly an image I'd like to have in my mind, I must admit, the Judge in a filmy little nightgown, but I will admit the base outline does seem apropos. The question is, what do we do about it? For that matter, what did YOU do about it?"

Danny smirked, "took the knife away, locked her in the closet, called the cops, packed my bags and spent the next six months a dozen countries away from her. By the time I got back, she'd tried the same stunt on a local pol and he wasn't as understanding; attempted murder or an insanity plea, those were her choices. Her stunt in the courtroom made the headlines - she tried to grab Exhibit A and skewer the guy AND the judge."

They'd been speeding away from the confused scene, leaving in their dust Interpol, local police, local politicians, a dozen individuals probably working for various alphabet organizations, happy just to be out and headed for home.

They were back in London's Heathrow Airport when they realized they were no longer alone. Just who those men were following them, they didn't know; weren't in the frame of mind to ask them, either. They just wanted to go home and wash the taste of this fiasco out of their mouths with some good whiskey. 

But that was the one thing they COULDN'T do, had resolved from the beginning of setting up housekeeping at Devils' Court that they would NOT do. They would not bring trouble trailing home after them.

"So what now, Your Lordship? I count three groups, and I'm kinda wondering about those two women over there who keep giving us the glad eye."

"Daniel, we are neither one of us past the stage of women giving us an appreciative glance, you know. At least, I'm not," Sinclair gently chided. "But you may be right; I'm sure you are about the men - that pair over by the newsstand trying to look inconspicuous, the three at the Duty-Free Shop, and those other two not even bothering to pretend they AREN'T staring at us."

Danny let his eyes settle on the drink he held in his hand. Airport liquor wasn't the greatest, but it did provide a jolt to the old brain. A slow smile dawned, and Brett felt the hair on the back of his neck stand at attention. He KNEW that smile.

"Think maybe a detour, Your Dukeship, on the way home. Take the scenic route, ya know? Visit another one of your little cottages, throw them off the track. After we make a call, of course, let Mistress Justine and the family know trouble might be headed their way, to pull in the drawbridge til we get there."

Sinclair frowned, not liking that idea all that much, thinking it didn't sound much like Danny either. Oh, the second part, certainly. Because anyone with a little time and effort could determine where they actually lived; it wasn't a deep dark secret. But the first part was disturbing.

"Daniel, there are staff at my various 'little cottages', as you describe them. I'm not willing to bring trouble down on any of them. We may be able to handle this lot, though seven men, and possibly two women are perhaps a bit much, even for us, but what happens if they report in first? We may get safely home with no one following, but what happens to the staff at that 'little cottage' afterwards when reinforcements show up after we're gone?"

That smile wasn't the 'boy, have I got a really neat idea!' one anymore. It had shifted to one that Brett had seen only a few times on his partner's face, and it gave him a cold chill. Sometimes with all the clowning around, you tended to forget that Danny Wilde could be a very, very dangerous man.

"Somehow, kid, I think the staff at the place I've got in mind can handle any leftovers from this group we can't deal with ourselves, AND any reinforcements that come crawling up out of the woodwork. Course, our big challenge will getting OURSELVES out in one piece, but hey, it's worth the risk, right? And I figure, once we GET home, we pull the drawbridge back in, stay holed up for awhile. I'll bet Mistress Justine will have a few ideas about repelling any invaders, and I can come up with a few of my own."

Brett frowned, puzzled, then the lightbulb went off and his eyes widened in shock. At least, at first in shock, then they narrowed in serious consideration.

A slow nod confirmed his agreement with the idea his partner had come up with.

"I wouldn't do that, in most cases; but now? Possibly. Let's see if we can figure out who they are, what they might have in mind. Then, yes, I wouldn't rule it out."

A few bullets later, it was pretty obvious what the followers had in mind.

"You think we should have gotten a permit, kid? For the parade, I mean," Danny asked, taking a fast look in the rearview mirror. "I count three, maybe four cars. You put on the brakes, we'll have a major pileup!"

"Well, I don't intend to put on the brakes, not considering the bullets they've already sent our way. I intend to set a nice brisk pace; hopefully they will stay close enough to follow us right onto the grounds at Ravens' Wing. I imagine the Watchers will be quick to notice."

"Hopefully they will be quick to notice that we're the good guys," Danny said somewhat nervously. They'd made their peace with the Watchers, with the intercession of Mistress Justine, but it was an uneasy one, at least on the men's part.

"Daniel, this was your idea. Are you having second thoughts?" Brett asked, risking a fast glimpse over to the passenger seat. He wasn't overly reasured by the answer he got.

"Hell, yeah. But I don't have anything better to offer, so let's just pretend I knew what the hell I was talking about when I suggested this crazy idea, and go for it."

"You bring strangers in your wake, Master Brett," came in a harsh hiss from the darkness. "We do not like strangers."

"What can we say, Rogashar? They - uh -followed us home?? Though I don't really know they're the type we wanna keep; or maybe they are."

Danny tried to quip, staring at the dark figure perched on the stone pillar, but finding those glowing orange eyes with the absurdly long eyelashes somewhat disconcerting. 

Still, it made it easier to tell the two gargoyles apart; Rogashar had the orange eyes, Turashal had the green ones. Justine had said they were mates, but Danny hadn't looked closely enough to determine which was male, which was female, wasn't any too sure he'd know even if he DID get a good look. {"That is, if they ARE male and female, not two males or two females. Or if gargoyles come in either flavor; maybe they do something else."}. 

He shook his head briskly, realizing this was not the time or place to be contemplating gargoyle sexual and/or mating traditions, though it probably WAS the place to get answers to those questions. Provided asking said questions didn't get him bashed into the ground, leaving only a wet spot and a little grease.

"So they did. But to what purpose, Justine's Danny, to what purpose?" came from the neighboring pillar, and a pair of bright green eyes shone down on them.

Brett looked at his partner. "Justine's Danny? Just how am I to take THAT??!"

Danny looked at Brett, smirking in spite of the seriousness of the situation. "Don't get your panties in a twist, Your Lordship. Didn't mean what you're thinking!"

Another hiss that turned into a very odd gurgling laugh. "Indeed not, Master Brett. Justine takes her pleasure where she will, that is true, but she has not lustful eyes for your love. He is not unappealing, perhaps, but any bedding of mortals is undertaken by the Mistress of Waelands for serious reasons, not the sweet simple joy of communion. For that, she seeks elsewhere, amongst her own kind."

"Ah, I see." Well, no, he didn't, but it seemed rather beside the point at the moment, considering those cars now seen in the distance entering the property behind them.

"So, these strangers? What intend they?" Turashal asked before either man could turn the conversation back in that direction.

"Well, I kinda think they want to catch us and tie us up and carry us away to answer all kinds of questions we don't want to answer," Danny replied.

"Unless, of course, they just intend to shoot us, which is also a strong possibility," Brett added.

Danny, as usual, had to try for the last word. "Or maybe all of the above."

The two Watchers of Ravens' Wing looked at each other for a moment, then turned back to them. Turashal asked, "and you WISH this to happen? Perhaps brought them here so they and you could have privacy for this, these actions? This is perhaps part of a mating ritual we are unfamiliar with?"

Brett raised a skeptical brow. He had no idea if that was being asked seriously, was sarcasm, or merely an example of gargoyle humor. 

Danny was pretty sure it was the last, but figured he'd check with Justine when they got home, just to be safe.

"Uh, actually, we were hoping to ditch them and head back to Waelands and pull in the drawbridge in case they have more friends headed in our direction, but figured we might need a little help. Most places on the route just have ordinary-type retainers, not ones for a real fight. But here, we kinda figured maybe . . ." 

Danny stared into those impassive eyes looking down at the two men and wondered if he'd been more than a little presumptuous in bringing trouble here. {"Shit! Wouldn't that be great, them pissed off at us too! Talk about being caught between a rock and a hard place!"}

"This 'ditch-ing'. It is to be of the permanent kind? We have some experience at this. We also have ditch-es readily at hand." That came from Rogashar, accompanied by a decided smirk.

"Well, while we generally prefer other ways of dealing with things, in this case, I believe it will quite possibly come down to that," Brett admitted. "They have guns and seem quite willing to use them."

Then what just had to be a chuckle came from the left pillar. "How delightful! And so timely as well! Our eggs are due to hatch anytime now and they will need fresh meat! Yes, let us welcome your visitors. We will 'ditch' them and fill our larder for our young ones, and you can be home to your own babes and unhatched eggs without delay."

From the right pillar, there came a quick followup. "Unless you wish to share, take some home for your OWN larder, of course; we must not be selfish or greedy."

Brett felt his stomach do a quick flip, saw that Danny was just a little off-color as well, but in truth, battle spoils did traditionally go to the victors, and the two perched on top of those stone pillars were victors if he ever had seen any.

It was over quickly, even the resulting bodies swept away almost before the last of the gunshots or the lingering echoes of the screams faded.

"What about the cars, Your Lordship? Let the kiddos here use them as teething rings after those eggs hatch?" Danny asked, looking at the overturned vehicles, sprawling across the road and the verge.

"That need not concern you, Justine's Danny. We have friends who will take them away. The mountain dwarves have a talent for working with metal, and will relish the opportunity to study these devices. Any who come looking will find not a trace outside these grounds, and any who think to venture within - well, they will cause you no trouble."

"Go, now, back to Waelands, though it might be best to raise that drawbridge for a space of time. Mistress Justine will know how to manage any who think to intrude there; she is really quite accomplished in such matters, almost as much so as we are."

The two watched Danny and Brett drive away, headed for home at a good clip.

"Really, my love??? 'Fresh meat for the hatchlings??' How grotesque!"

"Yes, of course, but so amusing! Did you see their faces?? Especially when YOU suggested we would share the bounty with them! And we must consider our image, you know."

"True, true. I wonder how they would take the news that we are vegan? And that our own babes eat only fresh fruit, with perhaps a little grain."

Epilogue:

And the drawbridge was indeed raised, at least figuratively speaking, and while there were one or two forays from the invaders, none came closer than the boundaries of the property, which were nowhere close to the house and those who dwelt there. Those forays did not go well for the intruders, and soon the former reputation of Devils' Court, (no matter the newly-reclaimed name!) spread once again, and even the most foolish took heed and put the inhabitants on the 'do not disturb' list, whether they were at the country property or elsewhere.

And Judge Fulton and his mischief-making? Oh, yes, that was indeed what it had been, if you were willing to call it anything so innocuous. But perhaps you had to cut him SOME slack, even look upon him with some pity.

Already obsessed with his seeking after his Holy Grail, 'Justice', or at least his vision of such, he had for some time been slipping back and forth over the line between reason and what Danny had termed 'really losing it'. 

Having no family, no longer having any close friends due to his uncomfortable rantings about Justice and his Holy Quest, there was no one to notice, to perhaps take some steps to mediate HIS actions before he did serious harm, to others or to himself.

Oh, certainly, as soon as he'd put that last job into play, he'd felt some regrets, had really hoped Sinclair and Wilde WOULD get out alive, even though he'd stacked the deck quite considerably against them in a fit of pique. Now, he no longer really wanted them dead, but DID want them back doing his bidding.

While neither man initially had the heart to refuse his calls, they DID refuse any bait he dangled in front of them. He thought to press the issue, thought to create a little familial discord in order to cause them less apt to find any peace or pleasure at that country house they were holed up in, but the ladies of the household quickly put a stop to that.

Perhaps it was the firm words from Margot, or the even firmer ones from Kate that finally persuaded the old man to stop trying to pull Brett and Danny back into his wild ventures. 

Or, perhaps, it was that small gift that came in the mail one clear morning in January.

Judge Fulton opened the box very carefully, having angered enough people that he had due cause to be suspicious of unexpected gifts. Still, Brett Sinclair and Danny Wilde HAD said they had a peace offering on the way to him; perhaps this was it. The return address would seem to indicate that.

Now he sat, slowly running his fingers over the carved obsidian, trying to figure out just what he was seeing. It was very roughly cut, enough he could only get the impression of perhaps a bird of some sort. 

"An odd sort of gift," he muttered, reaching out his hand to set the object on the far corner of his desk, "perhaps a paper weight?"

Strangely, he was somewhat reluctant to let it leave his hands; it had felt so 'right' to him, as if it was an extension of himself, really quite comforting in some way.

Oddly enough, every time he looked at it, it seemed much more distinct, the features much clearer now. Finding that curious, he reached out to hold the object once again, finding the cold obsidian now having a warmth, a softness, making it seem closer to flesh, no, perhaps feathers-over-flesh, than to stone. It also seemed a little larger than it had before, overflowing his cupped hands where before it had seemed just the size to nestle there, like a pet dove might do. 

"Very odd," he mused, and then set it aside once more to work on finding a better way to get those two stubborn Knights to return to his Round Table, to once again take up their swords and shields to defend Justice.

"Justice," he muttered, and there was a hissing trill of an echo.

"Yes, Justice."

Startled, he dropped his pen and looked around frantically, his eyes slowly coming to rest on the black figure with the piercing gold eyes, now clearly a gargoyle, with wings nearly the size of an eagle's, taking up the seat of the chair on the far side of his desk. His faltering blue eyes widened in shock as the figure nodded at him, and continued to speak.

"'Justice' they named me, for they said it was Justice that you hungered for as your Companion. Hunger no more, my sweet pet, for Justice is now yours, and you are mine, and I will be with you for the rest of your days. Together we shall dwell. I will amuse you with the legends of my kind; you will perhaps tell me stories as well, of your noble battles, the battles of the Knights you commanded. And you can read to me; I would like that." 

Fulton stared, mouth at first hanging open, then working frantically as he tried to speak. Somehow he was pretty sure the first words that came out of his mouth weren't the most sensible, under the circumstances. Still, what WOULD have been sensible under the circumstances??

"You've grown quite rapidly. How big will you get? And . . . What do I feed you?" 

Well, perhaps those WERE sensible questions after all, certainly practical in nature, though perhaps the question of a litter box might also have come to mind.

A slow, rather sweet smile came to that face. "Oh, quite large, eventually. And unlike the foolishness people tell of me and mine, I really prefer fresh fruit, perhaps a little grain now and again. I really like cherries. And raspberries."

The smile was somehow endearing, capturing his heart and his imagination at one stroke. That smile offered everything he had ever wanted, had never been able to find, not before now.

Fulton nodded slowly, "cherries, raspberries. Yes, those are my favorites, too."

Justice positively beamed, "then my parents were right! We were just MEANT for each other. Eleanora will arrive in the morning; she will take care of both of us properly. She is very nice, you will like her. She's a brownie, you know, a house elf."

Fulton nodded again, not noticing the thread of drool running down the side of his mouth until Justice hopped to his desk and handed him a handkerchief with one outstretched claw. 

"Here we are, my pet, wipe your mouth like a good boy. Now, what story will you tell me first? Aunt Justine's boys, her Danny, her Brett, say you know lots and lots of them!"


End file.
